A angry old man wrote a lullaby.
He sang the song
to his grand daughter.
His rusty, gone voice stumbling
out a tune about chocolate
ice cream and puppies.
She knew no difference in love
for chocolate ice cream and
the old wrinkled lips
serenading her.
Just appreciation.
He was a lot of things to
different people.
An ass, closed minded fool,
and angry.
To his doe eyed grand daughter
he was warm, soft.
The weathered skin he wore was
so wise in her mind.
There was admiration, that maybe
no one else will hold for him.
He knew so.
It was what sparked the smiles in
passing to strangers on the street.
For the first time he didn't mumble
about the temperature of his IHOP
breakfast.
Instead cut up the pancakes and
gave his grand daughter the
pieces painted with whip cream
and strawberries.
As she grew so did the lullabies.
They turned into songs trying to keep
up with melodies that matched her age.
Till the songs ended and the 21 year old
doe eyed grand daughter grasps to
the lyrics he once wrote for her.
"I love you, yes I do
Every week
Every month
Every hour of every year
I love you, yes I do".